


Welcome To The Machine

by TheGreatShiniGami



Series: A Glance Askance [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Extended Play, Gen, Initiations, Songfic, introspective, pink floyd - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatShiniGami/pseuds/TheGreatShiniGami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A choice is made; but can one call a forcing of hands a choice? A reaction to an action was all he could really think of it. Motions made simply because the parts were all moving in a similar direction and level of force. Rather mechanical, even...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome To The Machine

**Author's Note:**

> The second part of what I'm calling the Extended Play cycle; a group of semi-canon compliant one shots that involve songs and associations I've made with them to various Potterverse characters. Expect lots of British Classic Rock.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> -S

_Welcome, my son…_

 

_Welcome to The Machine._

 

                Severus stilled himself again at the top of the staircase. There really wasn’t any need for the pomp involved; but he could understand the need to call the Chthonic to mind for his initiation into their particular ‘order’. The two guards on either side of the stairwell saluted him with their wands. Severus responded in kind, although he’d had to leave his wand in the foyer upstairs. The old, rickety house served its purpose—just as he would soon serve his.

                “Are you prepared; Wizard, to face death? To consume it, feed from its essences and echoes? To swear your unending service to the one who would conquer it?” The one on the right asked him in a booming voice that had to be magically altered. He suspected that it was Nott and Carrow up here. The speaking voice matched in timbre and the sickly, tallow looking hands of the other could only suggest one of the twins.

                “I am.” He replied, coldly. Fools; he’d been eating death ever since he’d been in fifth year at school. Funny how power and fear made such perfect replacements for acceptance and love. She’d see; once everything was said and done and Potter lie cold at his feet—she’d see who the _wrong sort_ really were. The only wrong sort was the losing side; and with the way the Dark Lord had been pushing against the Ministry, it was clear that they were only a hair’s breadth away from victory.

                “Then descend. Do not hold out hope that you will survive; The Dark Lord takes life as quickly as he grants it.” Nott said. He’d not been completely sure, but his inflection on his o’s had given him away. Morons; they were up here because they couldn’t be trusted with the identities of the Inner Circle. Granted, neither was Severus; but if what Bella had told him was true—it wouldn’t be long before these two would be scraping and bowing to him as well. He resisted the urge to smirk at them. Death Eaters had no emotions. _Certainly not happy ones._ Severus descended down the stairwell, the two at the top of it passing out of view with only four stairs down.

 

_Where have you been?_

 

_THAT’S ALL RIGHT; WE KNOW JUST WHERE YOU’VE BEEN!_

 

It was ludicrous anyway; he reminded himself. She had chosen her side, and he his. He tried to apologize to her—but she would not hear him. Any time she’d blown him off for her friends, or had forgotten to respond to one of his notes and all was expected to be fine. But the first— _it was not the first—_ time he’d slipped and used _one wrong word_ and he was a pariah to even her. There was no way she’d ever see. The only way to resist a group like this was from the inside—you couldn’t just take off like a Gryffindor, sword flashing bright against the raging horde. That kind of daft behavior got you killed. Severus knew the only way to bring peace was through this. Who was he fooling? There was only one beneficiary here. He’d learned that in Spinner’s End; the only one who would watch out for _him_ , was Severus Snape.

 

_You’ve been in the pipeline, filling in time…._

 

                Further down he went, plodding with an even rhythm down the staircase. How much longer did it go on? It was obviously enchanted, but did The Dark Lord really give in to this kind of showmanship? It was a message. _You are descending into Hades; and you will sup with Death, and emerge no more a man—but a demon._ It was quite smart when you thought of it; the spell probably made it to where those who the Dark Lord really didn’t want to find him would simply walk forever. The stair sensed his thoughts about it and creaked menacingly as he neared the bottom; passing some unknown marker of the spacial distortion.

 

_You didn’t like school, and you know you’re nobody’s fool…_

 

                He reached the end of the stairwell, the basement floor a single, solid stone slab. This was truly the point of absolutely no return; for seated on a throne built of femurs and ulna and spines was The Dark Lord himself. He wore plain black robes—which showed he didn’t focus too much on the material for a display of power. His skin carried a corpselike pall from the amount of dark power he’d pursued. The most peculiar feature were his eyes; the red orbs that shone from the shadow cast by his robe’s hood. On the lowest step of the dais where the throne was, stood the leather corset clad form of whom Severus accurately assumed was Bellatrix—to the Dark Lord’s right hand side. A tall man who had small strands of platinum hair dripping from his hood in waves stood to the left. Both were masked. Severus strode forward confidently, reaching the base of the dais; and kneeled.

                “I have arrived with respect to your wishes, My Lord.” He stated formally.

                “Very good, Master Snape; I see you have considered my offer, a most intelligent decision.” The seated wizard responded. His voice was a burrowing, serpentine thing that wrapped around all the worst parts of the mind and drove them to excitement. Hate, fear, lust, greed all of them brought to the surface with just the sound of his words alone. Severus knew magic had to be at work; he wondered if Bellatrix’s insanity was partly due to the constant presence of her master’s— _now his master’s—_ voice.

                “Of course, My Lord. Other considerations were simply exercises in futility.” Snape replied. He could feel the pushing at the space between his eyes that signaled use of Legilimency. He was probing him and Severus was good at showing men who thought themselves the pinnacle of power what they wanted to see. Granted, the Dark Lord could see that this was the case. He’d make the perfect Death Eater; completely unscrupulous, a talent for causing pain and misery, and a loyalty only to oneself and the pursuit of power. Voldemort smiled and bid him to extend his wand arm. The Dark Lord rose and pointed his wand at the exposed, clammy flesh.

                “With this mark, you are an extension of my will. When it burns black, you will come to me from wherever you are to do my bidding. With it comes the price of everlasting servitude; from it comes the promise of power untold and unrivaled. Do you accept, Severus Snape?” He said. His words seeped into Severus’ soul like poison seeping into the muscles and veins of a snakebite victim. The call of it was too much to bear; had he been a lesser man he would have shown more emotion than he was. No, there was no going back to the way things were—and if she’d called him out on this in school… Well, to say the least, Severus would never make a liar out of her.

                “Yes, My Lord.” Severus replied without moving.

                Severus didn’t remember the incantation. He did remember the pain from the charm being burned into the very fabric of his being; forever marking him as the Dark Lord’s own. There was more speech after—about blood-purity and the other political stance nonsence. The Dark Lord saw in Severus’ mind that he didn’t really care about any of that. The only thing this was—to all true Death Eaters—was a means to an end. The Dark Lord only truly respected power and those who seek it at all costs. After the casting and ceremony; Severus rose and bowed once more before returning up the stairs and retrieving his wand from the foyer of the old house. The rain had begun to inundate the area, so instead of returning by broom or portkey; he apparated back to Spinner’s End.

 

_So Welcome….._ _Welcome To The Machine…._


End file.
